Runaway
by Umechaw
Summary: She'd be the death of him. And to be honest, he really didn't care. Because as long as she ran away, he'd do anything to drag her back. Rogan.


Runaway

**Chapter One**

This was the _last time_. That was all there was to it. No more. Pleasant sleep came hard enough without being interrupted by that snotnosed brat. He wouldn't drag his ass out here; waste his time bringing the damn senseless kid back, she had to be either insane or stupid to choose a dingy bug-ridden motel or a nice comfortable spot next to a dumpster over the professor's hospitality. Whatever. She probably _liked_ getting him up at midnight, and scaring everyone half to death.

Yes, this was, with complete certainty, the very last time.

Logan, however, couldn't forget that that little psychotic monster was _his_. And somehow, despite the gruff demeanour of an absolute badass he portrayed in everything he did, he knew this wouldn't be the last time, because he wouldn't stop looking for her. Damn, didn't that put a dent in his disposition.

He growled in irritation as the windscreen began to fog up and cloud his way, from the icy howl of freezing wind outside. God, his car wouldn't be able to handle this anymore.

_She's payin' for the repairs_.

Despite his gifted talent for driving, ice caked the roads, and the wheels skidding along unstably, dragging him toward trees and ditches, which he expertly dodged. With a long, vicious tirade of every curse word that came to mind. Which was often all of them known to the English language.

The wheel within his strong hands twisted as he rounded the corner, a fierce screech of rubber on the frosty road causing him to wince. Oh yeah, she was definitely paying for the repairs. The weather became worse only seconds later, as a blizzard of pure white began to whirl around the car, turning the road and everything before him into nothing but an ashen wall. Luckily, though, as he rode aimlessly though the blistering fog of snow, a speck of light began to flicker at him. His deep brown eyes squinted out the windscreen, sore and red from lack of sleep, and saw the flashing lights of a "vacant" sign, alongside a pub. Within the car park, due to his heightened senses, he saw the black motorbike she had stolen.

Bloody hell, why did he teacher her how to ride a motorbike in the first place?

'_Hold on tight, kid, but not too tight.'_

'_Tight but not too tight, what the heck?'_

'_Well do you _want_ to ride into a tree and kill yourself?'_

'_What kinda teacher _are_ you?'_

'_The badass kind.'_

He smirked as he pulled in carefully, and parked the car beside the bike, which started to freeze over from the frosty air. What put an edge of hilarity to this very serious and irritating situation was the fact that it belonged to Scott.

Okay, so he'd thank her for that later.

He slammed the door to his car shut, and shrugged into his collar, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

_Screw this._

He had to be careful this time; as he had learned before, barging in there and smuggling the girl out wasn't a good idea at _all_. Last time the barkeeper had thought him a maniac trying to pounce the girl and/or rape her.

What happened to the helpless kid who hid in his trailer all those years ago? She would have died if he hadn't put aside his asshole for a few minutes and let her in his van. Probably would have been better to leave her, if this was the result.

Logan winced at the thought.

He pressed against the door, heard its irritating jingle above his head, and immediately felt the warmth and the smell of bittersweet smell of alcohol engulf him. He breathed it in.

_I need a beer. And a cigar._

Almost instantly, he saw the tiny-framed girl sitting hunched over the countertop, her giant hood covering a majority of her young face. He cleared his hoarse throat softly, and stooped further into the bar.

Wolverine heaved himself up onto a stool at the other side of the bench, pressing his elbows to the countertop. Dull music thumped in the background, the only others in the bar beside him and Rogue were two lonesome poker-addicts who were still going at it at two in the morning.

He glanced quickly at her, watched her quivering hands pick up her glass, and she sipped it tentatively. He arched his brow in shock, when he looked at the golden liquid within her glass.

Was she drinking _grog?_

'What can I do for you?' an exhausted bartender enquired, busily stuffing his fist into a soaked glass, a cloth wrapped around his knuckles.

'Whisky,' he murmured, but he knew she heard him. Her head almost instantly perked up. He saw the lines of sleeplessness beneath her eyes and the droop of her white-streaked hair over her eyes. The girl was a wreck.

He frowned at her, his brows knitting together, and allowed his hand to rise in a quick wave.

She snapped her eyes away, gulping her drink down, before stumbling down from the barstool and groggily making her way toward the door. The men engulfed deep within their card game gazed up from their cards sparingly, and he knew the thoughts that ran through their alcohol-induced mind.

_That girl was completely wasted_.

'Here,' the bartender slipped the giant mug toward him, and he absently stuffed a bill onto the bench.

''Ey, don't you want your drink?'

Logan was already slamming the pub-door behind him.

'Hey.'

She stumbled away from him, brows drawn together in concentration as she stared at where her motorbike _should_ have been.

Which one of them was _hers_? And surprisingly, the three bikes all looked so similar...

...Wait.

'_Hey_.' he growled, a little more forcefully, and this time he managed to get her to halt.

Rogue sniffed, suddenly aware of the blistering cold and relentless flow of ice that was pelting from the sky, and she realised why she had gone into the bar in the first place. At that time, though, she did not plan on getting absolutely downright pissed. It was more curiosity, and the fact that the bartender was either to stupid or too busy to notice that she was only seventeen, and the fact that when she had more than _innocently_ asked for a whiskey, he'd planted it in front of her without even looking at her.

What was the big deal, anyway? Why was Logan so big on alcohol? When she'd first tasted it, she'd felt like gagging. _Too_ strong, and it _burnt_. But after a while... it took on a smooth taste, that burning feeling turned more addictive than painful.

It was on her third mug of it that she completely forgot that if Logan had found out she had been drinking, he'd have _kicked_ her ass. Or, laughed hysterically, and then kicked her ass.

'What do you think you're _doing_?' he demanded over the slight roar of the wind. She snapped out of her daydream as he said those sharp words, she tossed him a groggy look over her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, and she flinched back instinctively.

'What the hell are you doin' _drinkin'_, girl!' he snapped at her. 'You're completely wasted! How old are you, seventeen? How many did you _have_?'

She took a deep breath, trying to count in her mind. She seemed to lose track after one.

'Ugh... six...maybe...' she smirked. He probably thought she wouldn't last past three.

His growl rumbled in his chest, he marched toward her. He'd tie her to the seat if he had to.

'Very smart, brat. How far do you think you would have gotten, spending all your money on booze, getting yourself unconscious. What then, huh? What if the next morning you go riding and you get into an accident, or you run out of gas and you don't have any money 'cause _hey_, I just spent all night getting drunk killing my brain-cells!' he roared.

She snorted, and he blinked in surprise. She usually cringed, or muttered something sarcastic under her breath that he'd let slip, purely because she was a teenager and he wouldn't nip back just because a few bad words were uttered under fake apologies.

She didn't downright _snort_ at him. 'Stop worrying... you... boob...' she muttered woozily, which he caught thanks to heightened senses.

...Did she just...?

'Did you just call me a boob?' he shook his head, sighing. 'Oh, girlie, it's way passed your bedtime. You're going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. That'll teach you.' He reached to grab her arm, but once again she moved away, despite the glowering in his eyes. She'd be the freaking death of him.

'Don't...Don't _touch _me!' she shouted, it came slurred through her gritted teeth. 'Don't come _near_ me! I'm not... I'm not going back _there_!'

'Why is it so damn _bad_?' he demanded, exasperated. He threw his arms into the air, as if to amplify his confusion. 'Why the hell can't you be _happy_ there? Why do you always make me come out lookin' for you when you _know_ I'll just drag your ass back?' He felt like shaking her, but it probably wasn't a good idea, since her brain was already functioning low. She'd probably vomit on him.

She gazed at him through squinty eyes, trying to process the many questions he'd blurted at her. One too many.

'I don't... I don't belong there... too different...' she murmured, her eyes wide and confused. He almost felt sorry for her.

'Well, kid, we aren't exactly normal ourselves.' He motioned to his knuckles.

'But I... but I can still _hurt_ people! I still...' She pressed her hand to her temple, as if to cease the merciless throbbing. It didn't work. 'I'm still not strong enough...'

'That's why you _practice_; it's why you're _there_. You're sure as hell gonna mess up, who _doesn't_?' he walked up to her, and she didn't realise until it was too late when his strong hand gripped onto her arm. 'You can't keep running away from it... one day I might not be able to bring you back.' he said softly. 'And it frigging _scares_ that you're gonna go off on one of these little holidays and finally get yourself _killed_.'

She looked up into his eyes; hers were fogged with a drunken state, and glistening with tears. 'I don't want to _hurt_ anyone...' she sniffed, allowing him to run his arms over her back and pull her against his chest. 'Why do you care so much...?'

He closed his eyes, feeling her cold body shiver, hearing her teeth chatter. 'Because who else would take care of a little runt like you.' he murmured. 'Now, either you get into my truck and fall asleep, or I _swear_ I'll strap you to the seat and won't stop at Burger King on the way back.'

He didn't get a reply, because she was already snoring against his chest.

He carefully laid her out against the harsh material of the car-seat, allowing her to fall back into a comfortable position, closing the door swiftly, before she got herself frostbite.

A thought spurred to life, though, as he was placing the bulk of the bike into the back of his truck, not only did she look like a goofy drunk, but she had a freaking good stamina if she could chug down six whiskeys.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Y hallo thar.

I really, _really_ like the idea of Logan and Rogue.

**Edit: **Has been edited. It's been nearly a year since I even _looked_ at this one, but I have some chapters coming up. And my writing has improved, I think. Yeah. Thank you for the reviews, you five lovely people!


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